Polaroid
by imaginaryvigilante
Summary: "Memories are a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, and the things you never want to lose." Post 'Knockout'.
1. Prologue

**Wow it's been a really long time since I was last on here. A really long time. **

**So this is my first crack at the Castle fandom. *bites fingernails* I hope I do it justice cause it's an amazing show. Srsly. ****This is sort of a post - finale fic (which I swore I'd never write) but with a twist. Or not a twist. I don't know. It's different but not AU different. Man I wrote the thing and I can't even describe it...I'll let you lot decide what it is or isn't.**

**A/N: I don't own Castle. I just follow anything Castle related on Twitter.**

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><p>Memory is an odd thing. It can define us, shape our experiences and help us relieve our most triumphant achievements as well as our greatest failures. But how do we keep these memories? How do we save our most treasured memories and keep them from simply becoming a blip in our existence? Some people write diaries; their accounts and recollections of important events forever immortalised in a book. Some people keep trinkets; objects of significance and symbols of moments passed, hidden from prying eyes, brought out only when one is feeling nostalgic. And some people, like Katherine Beckett, keep photos.<p>

Kate was four when her mother gave her a second hand Polaroid One Step Camera. Her first photo age; of the next door neighbour's cat – the creepy one with one eye that spat and chased her halfway up the old oak tree in her front yard one time – was displayed proudly on the fridge for almost three years.

Since that day, where Kate went, her camera went. The one time she went out without it, to play soccer with the neighbours boys, she brought home the dead bird they'd found because, according to her six year old logic, it was too icky to not take a photo of. Johanna Beckett had gingerly taken the bird outside and let Kate take one photo before she pulled her daughter away to vigorously wash her hands. After that, it wasn't unusual for her mum or dad to remind Kate if she had her camera with her before she left the house.

Soon the drawer that she kept the photos in began to overfill. Kate must have been about ten when she went to put her latest picture in the 'photo drawer' when one over enthusiastic tug sent over two hundred photos flying. After several frantic calls for both of her parents, Kate began hysterically scooping up her beloved memories. Unfortunately that day had been particularly hot and Kate had left her bedroom window wide open. A large breeze swept through her room and carried several photos out with it. Several hours later, despite her father's best efforts to retrieve the lost photos, Kate was inconsolable. Some of her precious memories were gone forever. The next day, after arriving home from school, throwing her bag on the floor and stalking upstairs, Kate was surprised to find her mother sitting on her bed surrounded by five photo albums. _They're all for your photos Katie. Then you won't lose any of them again. But remember that even though you lose your photos, you can never lose your memories. __Memories are a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, and the things you never want to lose._

Then after that fateful day - the death of her mother; the one memory she can never forget, no matter how many pictures blow out the window – Katie the photographer stopped being. Kate Beckett, the tough, ballsy homicide detective took over.

And for the longest time, there were no more photos.

Until fate decided to interfere as it often does; usually when we least expect it, leaving us shaking our fists or screaming into a pillow.

One second Kate was giving a eulogy, and then next Castle had tackled her to the ground; a burning sensation spreading in her lower abdomen. Confusion and fear exploded in her mind leaving her dizzy and winded. She couldn't breathe properly. It was getting harder to think straight. Her vision blurred. She was surely dying.

_Bullet. Ground. Pain. Hat...where's my hat?_

Before she passed out and followed the light in the tunnel, Kate heard a voice. Soft and far away, she tried to focus on it. And then, as the fuzzy darkness and searing pain began to envelope her, she saw_ his_ face and heard _his _voice. Barely even a whisper, but she heard it.

"I love you Kate. I love you."

And there it was. Love.

Love defines itself as a feeling of tender affection for somebody, or a feeling of romantic and sexual desires. Well that is what the dicitonary defined it as. This was so much more.

Love.

He loved her.

A weak smile graced her face. Through all her pain his words could still manage to make her smile.

Then everything went black.

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><p><strong>It's short but hopefully sweet :) <strong>

**More to come soon!**


	2. Waiting

**Righteyo, just a little warning, we're jumping to present tense for the rest of the story. Oh, and there will be little gorram mistakes because I've re-written stuff about a hundred times and this story is un-beta'd. **

**A/N: Hell yeah I own Castle! Wait no not TV Castle, I meant a dollhouse that's actually a dollcastle. Whatever, I was six and Princess Barbie didn't like suburban houses okay!**

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><p>Kate is unconscious for a week.<p>

One whole week. 7 days. 168 hours. 10080 minutes. 604800 seconds. Actually it's more like 7 days, 173 hours, 10380 minutes, 622800 seconds because she spends almost 5 hours in surgery to repair the damage done by the piece of hot metal that tore its way through her chest.

To Richard Castle, it feels like an eternity. The fear, the uncertainty, the helplessness and the goddamn _waiting_, is killing him.

The waiting is killing him.

Huh. Never in his whole literary career had he used such a clichéd cliché. But now, only now, does he understand it. He is a living, breathing literary cliché. And he hates it.

He barely remembers what happened after Kate was taken into surgery. All he remembers is running behind the stretcher until he could run no more, watching her disappear into the bowels of the hospital. Did he go home to change his clothes that were soaked with her blood or did someone bring him a change of clothes? Has he eaten? Slept? Rick can't remember anything. He is numb. All he can think of, all he can see is that moment, _the_ moment when Kate Beckett, his Kate, his muse, slipped into oblivion.

Now all he wants is for her to wake up.

Two days after her operation Kate is wheeled out of the ICU and into a private room.

And Richard Castle continues to wait.

The others come and go but he stays. Holding her hand, talking to her about the weather, Alexis, and how much she needs to wake up because her father is waiting for her and that Lanie is going to smack her if she doesn't. He tells her stories of princess and dragons, of superheroes and villains, making sure the bad guys get it _every time_ and the hero always saves the damsel in distress. It helps. Sort of.

He's been home once to see Alexis and sleep. And to throw away the suit. _The _suit stained with _her _blood. He's had blood on his suits before – we won't even mention the bar fight he got into once – but this is different. Much different. He won't even wear that suit again.

On the fifth day, whilst in the middle of explaining to her the rules of home laser tag, Rick feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey kiddo, how is she?" Martha's voice is soft and gentle. Rick feels about thirteen again.

He rubs a hand over his chin, surprised to find it prickly. Very, very prickly. "Same as before. She's stable but unconscious and the doctor says she should…_will_…wake up. When she's ready."

"Kate Beckett never did anything on anyone else's schedule that's for sure." Martha says with a hollow laugh. When Rick doesn't respond she tries again. "She'll be fine kiddo. Beckett is one tough woman."

This time Rick looks at her and Martha can see just how much he is hurting. "You don't know that. I should have…been faster…should have seen it…should have done _something_."

Martha changes her tone abruptly, "Richard Alexander Rodgers you stop that right now. No one, not even you could have seen this coming. Now you are going to go home and get some sleep, eat something other than what the vending machine spits out, spend some time with your daughter; who by the way is home by herself with one scary protective detail outside. And then you are going to _shave_."

Yup, he definitely feels thirteen again. Except this time he has facial hair and is even less willing to listen to his mother. He opens his mouth to reply but Martha is quicker.

"Don't even try." She softens her voice again. "What's it going to look like when she wakes up and you look like a mess? It's going to be hard for her Richard. Don't make it any harder by making her worry about you."

Rick wants to argue but his mother has a point and he is just too tired. Unwillingly he stands up, gently places a kiss on Kate's knuckles and promises her he will be back soon.

"You'll…" he begins but falters.

Martha understands, "We'll call the second anything happens. Now go."

On his way out he sees Esposito, Lanie, Ryan and Jenny sitting with Jim Beckett outside Kate's room. They've barely left the hospital themselves but don't look half as bad as Rick does. Lanie is half-heartedly munching on a bag of something from the vending machine as she rests her head on Esposito's shoulder. The owner of the vending machines at the hospital is making a fortune off all of them.

"I'm just…I'll be back. Soon."

They nod. It's almost like someone broke the television remote and their whole world is stuck in slow motion. Tragedy does that to a family.

"We're all gonna sit with her for awhile bro." Esposito says, lightly clapping Rick on the arm. The 'bro' sounds more obligatory than a term of endearment.

He's about to leave when someone calling his name spins him around on the spot. It's Jim Beckett.

"Sir." Rick says tentatively. He has been sort of avoiding Jim for awhile considering the last time they talked Jim had almost pleaded with Rick to help Kate stop her hunt for her mother's killer.

"It's not your fault you know."

Well. So not what he was expecting. A slap or maybe some angry words. But not this.

"Katie's tough you know? Always has to see eveything through 'til the end. Sometimes I wish she wasn't like that. Then maybe she wouldn't be...I don't know what's going to happen after all this. Believe me I wish I did. But...at least she doesn't have to do this alone. She's got someone to stand by her now and I'm glad it's you." The pain in the older man's eyes is almost unbearable to look at.

Rick nods. He doesn't know what to say. Jim's words make him feel reassured and guilty all at the same time. It's confusing as hell.

The sunlight outside is harsh against his eyes and he puts a hand up to shield them. It's been far too long since he's been outside. After hailing a taxi – because he cannot, for the life of him, remember if he parked a car anywhere or not – he arrive homes, gives a nod to the security detail outside his building, opens his front door and is promptly squished in a hug.

"You're home." Alexis mumbles into his chest. She's been at the hospital far too much; surrounded by too much death and Rick feels exorbitantly guilty. Hell, he's feeling guilty for everything at the moment. On the way home he sees a small child drop their ice cream scoop onto the sidewalk. It would have been funny some other time. But Rick somehow feels responsible for the child's tears.

Rick wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. "I'm home."

They eat lunch together, talking, but not really saying anything; both avoiding the huge elephant in the room. The phone.

The one time it does ring, Alexis reaches it first. It's Ken's Double Glazing Company and they are having a sale on all bathroom glazing until the end of next week. Alexis, although relieved it's not the hospital, rips into them and Ken hangs up first. Rick begins to smirk but it falls off completely when sees a tear roll down his daughter's cheek. He jumps up off the couch and envelopes her in another hug. It's going to be one of those days.

"It's not fair dad." Alexis sobs.

Rick holds her tighter than before. "I know. I know."

"It could have been you."

Rick can't answer that because part of him wishes it was him. Then he feels ever more guilty for wishing that because what would that do to Alexis?

They stay wrapped in a hug for a long time.

A few hours later and Rick is restless. He and Alexis are curled up on the couch looking through old photo albums. They both feel they need to look on happier times and Rick has saved every photo of Alexis since the day she born. Of course, she always makes him skip over the first few pages of the first album because Rick was a little _too _excited for the arrival of his daughter and took far too many photos of the actual birth. It may be beautiful to him but to Alexis it's gross and slightly weird.

Laughing at the photos and sharing memories makes Rick feel a little better. Restless, but better. He's shaved, eaten and even slept for a few hours. Okay, one hour, but it's still better than sleeping in a hospital chair from hell. He wants to go back to the hospital but he can't bring himself to leave Alexis.

"Dad?'

"Hmm?"

"Go."

"What?"

"Go. Back to the hospital."

"But…"

"You're starting to fidget. Go. I'll be fine. Honest. Ashley said he's gonna come over. Besides," she adds with a sly grin, "you'll just be a third wheel."

Rick pretends to be serious, but is secretly glad his daughter is cracking jokes and not bursting into tears any more. He hugs her again. "Don't do anything I would do," he says, only half joking.

Alexis kisses him on the forehead. "Of course. One of us still has to be the responsible parent. And we both know it's not you."

Rick gives her one last hug and leaves, wondering how on earth Alexis turned out so well with him as her father and Martha as her grandmother.

The air has turned cold since Rick was last outside. Much colder. He pulls his coat tighter around him and sticks his arm out for a taxi. Miraculously one stops within two minutes and Rick dives in, thankful that the driver has enough sense to put on the heater.

"Where to sir?"

Rick opens his mouth and is about to tell the driver to go to the hospital. Instead he tells the driver Kate Beckett's address.

Weird.

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><p><strong>Oooh...<strong>


	3. Revealed

**A/N: Nope. Still don't own it D:**

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><p>Rick isn't sure why he's here. Part of him wants to turn around and run but the other half of him; the far bolder part apparently, pushes open the door of her building – he liked her old one much better before it exploded – and presses the elevator up to her floor. His mind is running on automatic.<p>

Weird.

He stands outside of her door for a long time. Eventually he pulls out a key from his pocket; the one she gave him awhile ago_, _and unlocks her front door.

"_What's this?"_

"_I believe the kids are calling it a key nowadays Castle."_

_He grins at her, "Well we can't all be hip and cool like you Beckett. But what's this key for?"_

"_My front door," she replies, and then narrows her eyes when she sees his face. "Not like that Castle! For emergencies."_

"_Like if I have to escape from Mother and her many trysts?"_

"_You can talk Mr They-call-me-the-White-Whale! And no you cannot hide from Martha's…'trysts'."_

"_Is that jealousy I hear Detective Beckett? Besides I would never ever – How about if I have to escape from Gina and her many deadlines?"_

"_Castle! You are not allowed to use my place as a safe house. It's for emergencies. E-m-e-r-g-e-n-c-i-e-s…and no I am not jealous."_

_He pouts at her, "So emergencies like if your place gets blown up again I can use it to unlock the door instead of injuring myself by breaking it down? My back was sore for a week last time."_

"_Well I supp– wait…Castle why would you even suggest that?"_

_Castle gives an exaggerated shrug. He likes dancing this dance. The one where there is generous amounts of playful banter with extreme amounts of underlying sexual tension. The other one; the two steps forward one step back? Not so much._

_Beckett rolls her eyes, "Do you want the emergency only key or not? Cause I can take it back you know."_

_He sticks the key in his back pocket of his jeans and grins widely at her. "Come and get it then."_

The minute Rick steps into her apartment it almost becomes unbearable. Everything is simply her. This is undoubtedly Katherine Beckett's apartment. And yet Katherine Beckett is lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Still unsure as to why he's here, Rick slowly walks forward into her lounge – if you could call it a lounge – and it's only now he notices one very important fact. There are no photos anywhere in her apartment. There are several paintings but no photos. He knows she has some of course, he's seen the ones of her ice skating. But they're not on display.

But the apartment is still hers. Being here reminds Rick that she is still alive, she's still fighting and she's still Beckett. She's not dead; far from it. Being in her apartment reminds him that she is still here, with him, with all of them.

It reminds him that she is going to live.

As he turns to leave his foot makes contact with the corner of a box that's sticking out from under the couch. Fortunately for Rick, he doesn't hurt his foot. But unfortunately for Rick, the gentle collision is enough to make something fall out from the box and land on the floor with a slight clatter.

Crap.

Now he's done it.

Freaking out that he's broken something Rick bends down to pick it up. To his surprise it's a photo album. Gingerly, feeling very voyeuristic but overcome with curiosity, he opens it. Inside are hundreds of carefully arranged photos, each captioned in Kate's handwriting. Granted it's obviously her seven year old handwriting – and the language use confirms it – but it's still her handwriting.

One of the first photos he sees is a seven year old Kate with her mouth wide open, almost taking up the whole picture. She has a piece of string tied around one tooth. It's only when he reads the caption that it makes sense.

_Mum and I about to pull out my tooth using the kitchen door. Got five bucks from the tooth fairy!_

Rick laughs. Only Kate. He flips the page and is greeted by two smiling boys and a girl with a mound of flowers at their feet.

_Our burial for the worm Jayden squished. Note to self: Using mom's flowers - NO._

This is so unlike the Kate that he knows, Rick is even more intrigued. He pulls out the box from under the couch. It's bigger than he expected and completely full of identical photo albums, each one titled with an age, starting from age five. There's also an ancient Polaroid camera nestled in the box too.

The albums stop at age nineteen.

Rick suddenly realises why and feels as though he's seen something he shouldn't have. He's about to close it when a single photo flutters out and falls to the ground.

It's a single, obviously digital photo. The only digital photo among hundreds of Polaroids. And surprisingly, it's of him. Well, him, Ryan, Esposito and Beckett at the Precinct's Christmas party. Rick remembers now. They'd all had far too much eggnog and were singing along to stupid Christmas songs when someone – as if Rick could remember who – decided to start snapping photos of NYPD's finest at their finest. The four of them are standing in a line; Ryan, Esposito, him and Beckett, and they have their arms around each other. Brightly coloured paper hats adorn their heads, although Beckett's is far too big and sits at an odd angle. They're all smiling in such a way that the term sloshed doesn't even begin to cover it but Rick grins fondly at the memory.

At the same time the photo makes him sad. This photo doesn't belong. But it should.

Rick's seen enough. As he begins to put everything back, he's struck with an idea. He puts everything back, tucks the box under his arm and makes his way back to the hospital.

On the seventh day, 173 hours, 10380 minutes, and 622800 seconds after she was shot, Kate wakes up.

At first Rick isn't sure if he's seeing things. He's spent the last day staring intently at her eyelids – after running out of stories to tell her, which was a rarity for even him – searching for some sign of life; willing her to come back to them. Everyone has left for the night, although it took much persuading by all of them for Jim to leave. The Box, as Rick has come to call it; as if it's capitalised, sits beside the bedside cabinet as it has done since he brought it here. No one says anything; no one really notices it.

Rick isn't even sure what he's looking for, staring at her eyes. He should be asleep. But he can't. And not because the chair digs horribly into his scapula and the screws poke his arse, but because he simply can't sleep; won't sleep. So he stares at her eyes.

Then he sees it. Her eyes flicker. Just a flicker.

And now he's certain he's gone crazy.

But there's another flicker.

And another.

And now he's certain he's not crazy.

"Kate?" He whispers, his voice hitching because well, he didn't even realise he's been holding his breath. He's holding her hand again too.

The eyelids flicker again. There's a short intake of breath and a soft groan.

There's a long pause.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

When did the clock get so goddamn loud?

No more fluttering. False alarm. He exhales slowly, unsure of what to feel.

"Hat. Where'smyhat? Rick. RickIneed…need to…"

He inhales sharply. Did she just…?

Then suddenly her eyes are wide open and she's looking right at him.

"_Castle._"

And there it is.

His name.

_His _name.

Her eyes slowly close again. Still holding her hand Rick reaches up and slaps the call button above her head. Everything's so surreal.

She's waking up.

"Come on Kate. You can do it. Come back to me Kate." He whispers. Over and over again. It's like a mantra.

Where's the damn nurse?

"The call button was pressed Mr. Castle?"

Finally. "She…Kate…she said…Castle…said my name." Rick's so focused on Kate he can't even get the words out. "Her eyes opened." He finishes lamely, squeezing her hand tightly. He's not letting go. Not even for a second.

The nurse – her name's Hanna – checks a few of the machines Kate's hooked up to. "Her vitals are still all stable. Her heart rate has increased slightly though. Nothing major just a little elevated. Someone must be dreaming." Kate mumbles some more and there's some eye fluttering and the nurse smiles. "Guess her body's had enough of sleeping then huh? Press the button again when she wakes up properly and Dr. Taylor will come and check up on her."

As Hanna leaves, Kate's eyelids flutter open again. They fixate on Rick.

"C-Castle? W…where? I…" She rasps softly.

Rick squeezes her hand gently. "Hey. Welcome back." He's calm and collected on the outside. On the inside, he's screaming and hollering and doing cartwheels. And back flips.

"Igosomewhere?" She coughs, "W…wa…water please. Help me up please."

Crap. Where's the nurse when she's needed? Gingerly Rick reaches down for the handle that will bring half bed up so Kate is in a sort of sitting position. Images of slapstick movies where the bed folds all the way forward and squishes the poor occupant comes to mind. He's got to stop watching so much TV.

After two minutes of wondering how the damn bed mechanisms work, Kate is sitting up, still blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Rick then pours a small amount into a paper cup from the water cooler and hands it to her. Slightly shaking she takes it from him and drinks it thirstily.

"That'sbetter. So…sleepy. YoubeherewhenIwakeup?"

Rick grasps her hand a little tighter, "Always."

Kate smiles dopily, "Mmm you're…nice. Verynice. Don't go okay? StayherewhileIsleep. I'm just gonnasleep…" Like flicking a switch, she's asleep again.

Damn.

Rick's inner back flips and flip flops stop. Just like that it's back to the waiting game. But this time there's an important difference.

She's holding his hand too.

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><p><strong>N'aww :)<strong>

**Wow I'm so overwhelmed with the amount of people that have put this on story alert and/or favourited it! It's amazing! I would love it if those that put it on story alert would review too! Even if it's just a :) or constructive criticism. Cause reviews make my day :)**


	4. Awake

**REPOSTED DUE TO REALLY CRAP STORY FAILURES. I can't multitask for shit :P**

**Second to last chapter! Or third to last depending on a short but really megafluffytoothmeltingsweet epilogue...**

**I want to thank the Acade- uh I mean Katie Duggan's Niece and livingandthriving for helping me with my Americanisms and errors and whatnot. I also realise I've flipped and flopped from 'mum' and 'mom' in the previous chapters. My bad! But you get the general idea non?**

**A/N: Not mine. No. Really.**

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><p>Talking.<p>

The first thing she hears is talking.

Lots of people talking.

Can they all just shut the hell up and let her sleep?

Wait, what?

Heavy eyes. Heavy, heavy eyes.

Somewhere to go, somewhere to be.

_And if you're very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you._

_Get down!_

_Kate, stay with me Kate._

_I love you. I love you Kate._

_Katherine Beckett you open those eyes right now. _

Mom?

Wait, what?

"And then she looked right at me and said I was very nice. Then boom. She was asleep again." Soft laughter fills her ears as Kate gradually cracks an eyelid. Her vision is blurry but she can make out roughly three, no four, pinky blobs. One pinky blob is very close. And…holding her hand? She wriggles her fingers and the pinky blob lets go.

"Castle?"

"Hey speak of the devil. Welcome back…back."

"Back…back?"

"Well back from wherever you went before."

Kate blinks in confusion and Lanie gives Rick a gentle punch in the shoulder. "Hey Writer Boy. The anaesthesia they use in surgery makes you woozy enough. Don't be confusing my girl anymore."

"Thank you." Kate gives a watery kind of triumphant grin to Rick, "You've been waiting here the whole time?"

Ryan steps up to her bed, "Sort of. We all went home for some sleep and food that doesn't come out of a vending maching. Then Castle called. He said that you'd sort of woken up. So we all got down here as fast as NY finest taxis could."

Esposito rolls his eyes, "Which, if you ask me are about as fast as – "

"Katie!"

"Dad?"

Jim Beckett swiftly moves through the crowd – five people in a single bed room is a crowd – and scoops Kate into a hug, mindful not to jostle her. He's seen the bandage that almost covers her entire torso.

They stay like that for some time. For the five other people in the room, it's slightly awkward, but none of them care; they're just glad this moment is happening instead of a sombre moment where the doctor is standing in front of them all whilst a sad melody plays in the background.

"I finally end up getting some decent sleep for the first time in a week and you decide to wake up when I'm not there?"

Kate smiles, but there are tears in her eyes. Barely noticeable, but still there. "I'm sorry. You always say I have impeccable timing."

The room laughs, but it's strained; there's underlying tension, reminding them all of how serious the situation is. How close they came to losing another member of their family.

Because that's what they are. A family.

Very odd, often at each other's throats kind of family. But still a family.

The room is silent for a minute, more unspoken questions filling it to the brim. If they aren't answered soon, something is going to burst.

"So," Kate clears her throat, "what happened after I – "

"Ah. Ms. Beckett. Glad to see you're awake. How are you?" Doctor Gregory Taylor sweeps in, followed by Hanna the nurse. Their timing is impeccable to say the least. Even better than Kate's.

"Like I just got shot in the chest at a funeral," Kate mutters darkly. Rick hides his smirk. There she is. Detective Beckett reporting for duty, sir.

"Right," says Dr. Taylor, clearly unsure of how to respond, "Firstly, I'm afraid I'm going to ask everyone who isn't family to leave. Visiting hours have been over for quite some time now as you probably know."

Mutters and grumbles erupt. "I'm sorry guys," Dr. Taylor says, holding up his hands in defeat, "we've made far too many exceptions in this case and now I'm going to have to insist you leave. Ms. Beckett has rest and you can all come back tomorrow."

As Ryan and Esposito begin to wearily shuffle out they shoot death glares at the doctor. Lanie gives Kate a gentle hug and promises to be back tomorrow. Rick gets up to leave too, but stops when he feels a hand on his.

"Not him." Kate says, "He stays."

"Ms. Beckett, I have to insist – "

"No you don't. He stays. That's final."

Dr. Taylor sighs, "Fine." It's been a long week for him too. Besides, the writer's been here the whole time anyway.

As Rick settles back down in the chair opposite Jim, Dr. Taylor continues to talk, "We'll up your dosage of pain meds slightly now that you're awake. It's going to be a bit uncomfortable for awhile I'm afraid. Vitals are still stable. I'm going to need to check your dressing and stitches though."

Oh.

Kate gingerly lifts up the front of the backless hospital gown someone kindly dressed her in. Which meant they probably saw her half-naked because she's wondering where her dress blues are. And her bra. Dr. Taylor gently unwraps the swaddle of bandages.

And there it is.

Just below her left breast is a small circular wound that has been neatly stitched up. It's hard to believe that something as small as that could cause so much damage; let so much blood out. But it's the numerous purplish blackish bruises covering her upper torso that makes everything look a hundred times worse. Rick winces. Kate looks to the ceiling.

"Lean forward please."

Kate winces sharply as she slowly bends forward. There is an almost identical wound on her back, but it's far larger than the one at the front. Rick looks to the floor. He's seen enough. Jim grasps Kate's hand a little tighter, holding her gaze with his.

Dr. Taylor lightly inspects the area with gloved fingers before redressing Kate's bandages. "The bruising should go down in about a week and a bit. Stitches are holding nicely; there's no bleeding, internal or otherwise. We first thought the bullet nicked your heart, what with all the bleeding. It missed by an inch. You were very lucky Ms. Beckett."

Kate looks down at her lap. "I know," she whispers, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Dr. Taylor realises he's touched on a nerve, "Right. Well I'll leave you alone now. If you need more pain meds press the blue button." Rick gives the doctor a look and he and Hanna make a hasty retreat.

The three of them stay in silence for a long moment before it's interrupted by Jim's stomach of all things. It growls very loudly and for a rather long time. Before he can stop himself, Rick lets out a laugh. The 'verse has her timing spot on today. His soft cough slash laugh is followed by a small laugh from Kate. Soon all three of them are laughing, almost hysterically. It seems odd, but right now, they're either going to laugh or cry. And if they start crying they might never stop.

Jim stops laughing first and stands up, stretching out his back from sitting in the godawful chair for too long. "Well I'm going to take that as a sign and head down to the cafeteria for some grub. You want any Katie? Rick?"

They both shake their heads no.

"Right. I'll be back soon. I love you Katie." He presses a gentle kiss to Kate's forehead.

"I love you too Dad." She mumbles back.

And finally they are alone.

Rick licks his lips, willing for some multi award winning mystery write mojo to fall from mystery writer heaven and help him out here. He can't voice what needs to be said though. The important questions, like what happens now, where this leaves them – _them _them and the Precinct them too – and how they're going to get through this hang heavily between them. It's awkward and intimate at the same time.

"What happened?" Kate's voice punctuates the mess that is his mind and stops it for just a second.

"What?"

"After I…what happened?"

Rick sighs. "Chaos. Complete chaos. People were screaming. Someone called an ambulance. Lanie tried to stop the bleeding. God Kate, there was so much blood."

She says nothing, but her eyes are willing him to continue.

"The ambulance guys got there and strapped you in pretty tight. Lanie was doing chest compressions all the way from the cemetery. They practically had to pry her off you. I ran behind as long as I could. They took you straight into surgery. Then we waited. And waited."

There's a silence while Kate lets the information sink in. Rick feels like he's doing okay so far. He doesn't want to overload her with information but at the same time he wants her to know. She needs to know.

"You get the guy?"

Shit. So many other questions he's willing to answer.

He clears his throat several times before speaking, "They searched the entire scene five times over. Then they came back and did it all over again the next day. Whoever it was was long gone Kate."

She closes her eyes briefly.

Rick graps her hand, "We'll get him Kate. We will."

She nods, although she's not looking at him, more at her lap again. Rick knows that look. It's her 'I'm-trying-not-cry-but-it's-not-working' look. She's made that face only three times. The first time was when he told her about what he'd found out about her mother's case. The second time was when Royce was murdered.

The third time is now.

"It'll never be over will it? I'm never going to find out the truth…"

"Hey, you can't know that. Of course you will. _We _will."

"Castle, this guy had someone try and kill me at a _funeral_."

Rick tries to ignore the _Castle, _but the formality stings a little bit.

"Don't think of that now okay?"

"I can't not Castle! Everyone connected to this is dead." She lets go of his hand, angry now, "Hell, they tried to kill me too! They almost did!"

Instantly Kate knows she's said the wrong thing. Rick drops his head and won't look at her. "Don't you think I know that? I almost lost you Kate."

"But you didn't." Kate grabs his hand again. They can't fight. Not now.

Rick idly traces patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb, "I didn't."

They sit like that for awhile, just being. Both glad that the other is there, but neither willing to say it out loud.

"What's in the box?" Kate asks curiously.

Box?

Oh, the box that he'd taken out of her apartment after using her emergency key to get in. The box that she'd kept hidden and personal. The box that contained years and years of Polaroids and special memories that weren't privy to anyone.

The box that he'd brought to her hospital room and forgot about.

That box.

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><p><strong>Who spotted the Firefly reference? Anyone? Shiny!<strong>

**Reviews are like rainbows. No, unicorns. No, RAINBOW UNICORNS. With chocolate. Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh.**


	5. Being

**FINAL CHAPTER *angelic music***

**A/N: If I owned Castle I would be rich, not working and student loan free. I'm broke, working tomorrow and my next student loan payment comes out of my bank account tomorrow too. So yeah, I don't own Castle.**

* * *

><p><em>That box.<em>

Rick decides to utilise the one strategy that's helped him in life. Deny everything. "What box?"

"The box that looks oddly like the one that I keep under my couch. _Hidden_ under my couch. Castle! You didn't!" Kate leans over and plucks the box from off the floor, not an easy task for someone with a hole in their chest. "You did!"

"I thought…I mean…you…" Dammit. Stupid impulsiveness. Stupid idea. She's probably going to throw him out just for misusing her 'emergency' key. God knows what she'll do for just touching her hidden box. He is so dead.

He's internally bracing himself for an onslaught of words or possibly a slap. If he outwardly braces for impact Kate will know he knows he's in trouble so if there ever was a time to use his poker face, it's now. But after a few moments of silence and Castle's failing poker face, Kate breaks out into a surprising smile. She picks up the album with the number twelve on it and opens it carefully.

"It's okay Rick. You know, I'd forgotten how many photos I'd taken." She laughs as she pulls out a photo to show him. "I was twelve and my mom and I went strawberry picking. We came home and she tried to make strawberry jam. It turned out horrible; it was too runny and the strawberries were lumpy but we used it all up. Every single last bit. I was eating jam sandwiches everyday for a week."

Rick takes the photo from her. It's of Kate and her mom, and they're holding up a largeish preserving jar with the words "STRAWBERRY JAM" carefully printed on it. Behind them is a mass of pots and pans and...is that a fire extinguisher? Despite the mess, they're both grinning broadly.

"You look like her you know." He says, handing it back.

Kate takes the photo back, still smiling, "You think?" It's possibly one of the nicest things she's ever heard.

"Yeah," Rick leans forward and his back lets out a loud crack. "These chairs are amazing. You know, I think it's realigned my spine. Horizontally."

Kate laughs but after seeing what's on the next page, she quickly flips over it. She guiltily glances up at Rick to see if he saw what she's trying to hide.

"And what have we here?"

Damn.

"Kate go back!"

"No way! You missed it. Too bad."

Rick pouts. "Go back."

"No."

"Pleaseee."

"No!"

"Well then, you don't get to see your other present."

"Other...present?" Kate says, looking over the side of her bed. Nothing. Too late, she realises she's been had.

While she's briefly occupied, Rick quickly flips back a page and sees what Kate is trying to hide so badly.

"Castle! No!"

"So this is you as Gene Simmons." He says, grinning at her blushing face. "I like the tongue."

Kate snatches the album from out of his reach. "Shut up. The next time I see Martha I might just ask to see the photos of _you_ as Gene Simmons."

His face pales slightly as he remembers the many, many, many photos of that particular Halloween costume. His mother still has them too, hidden somewhere. They've made an appearance once or twice for blackmail purposes only.

"That's what I thought." Kate says smugly, flipping through a few more pages. This is nice; taking trips down memory lane. It's helping to take her mind of everything else for the time being.

"You know," Rick says, twisting in his seat uncomfortably, "you should get some of these chairs for the precinct. Suspects will be lining up to be put in the holding cells." He shifts again, trying to get some feeling back into his ass. "I don't know how I've managed to be sitting in it for so long with breaking something important."

"You can sit here." Kate says, without missing a beat. The words are out before she can grab them and stuff them back in her mouth.

Rick almost very nearly chokes on his own spit and it's not entirely out of shock. He's often dreamed of being invited into Kate Beckett's bed. But not like this. Not like this.

Kate sees his doubt and shuffles over as gently as she can without winding herself, "You can't hurt me."

Oh god. Rick gulps a little and gingerly perches next to Kate, almost too afraid to sit properly on the bed. He's not a large man but the bed certainly seems smaller now he's sitting on it. There's little room and the last thing he wants is for Kate to fall off, so he instinctively he puts his arm around her waist. His touch is surprisingly reassuring so Kate leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder. This is new. Very new. It's a startling new level of intimacy for them both but they're sitting together like it's the most natural thing in the world.

For the next twenty minutes they stay like that, looking at Kate's old photos, laughing, sharing memories and generally forgetting the approaching storm. Which is approaching fast. A storm that is carrying lightning and thunder and hail and rain in it's wake. But that's not important now.

"I heard it you know." Kate says suddenly, as she lifts her head off his shoulder and turns her head to look at him.

"Hmm? Heard what?" Rick's only half listening. He's noticed the picture she's holding is the one of them at the Christmas party. And he's just noticed that in the picture his hand around her shoulder is not around her shoulder. Or even at the small of her back.

In fact it kind of looks like his hand is on her butt. Oh wow. His hand _is_ on her butt.

"I heard what you said. At the funeral. Before…before I – "

Now Rick's fully listening. He doesn't care about drunk hand placements or photographic proof or even what's going to happen to him when Kate looks at the picture properly. Suddenly nothing really matters. Also, he's back holding his breath. He's not sure he even remembers what breathing is, let alone how to convert oxygen to carbon dioxide.

"I heard it. What you said. And I – I mean…we…you and I - " God, she can't even say it. Everything is just a bit overwhelming. That's a lie. If she didn't hurt in about fifty different places she'd be up and running as far away as she could go. Her brain is yelling all sorts of profanities at her right now. Words are not forming coherent sentences. She probably looks like a flailing fish while her brain goes into panic mode.

But she's looking at him. Really looking at him.

And he knows what she's trying to say.

Sometimes two people have a moment. Just one. If they grab that moment they can be set alight and their fire can burn forever. If they miss it, they can fizzle out and leave behind a life time of if only's.

This is their moment.

And they both know it too.

Somehow the gap between them sort of gets smaller. A lot smaller.

If you asked Kate, she'd tell you Rick moved closer first. If you asked Rick he'd tell you Kate moved closer first. If you asked Lanie, she'd smirk and cross her arms knowingly. If you asked Ryan or Esposito, they'd both look somewhat sick and avoid the question.

Regardless of whom you asked the outcome is the same each and every time Lanie forces them to re tell the story.

One minute they're looking at each other, very intently.

And the next the gap between them is gone and their lips are touching. They're kissing. Again.

It's not like their undercover kiss; full of lust and desire, it's softer, gentler and chaste but with just a much meaning, much more feeling and emotion behind it. And this time they're not going to brush it under the rug and pretend it didn't happen. It's happening alright.

Kate pulls away first, blushing slightly.

"That," Rick says quietly, resting his forehead on hers, "was the best I love you too. Ever."

Kate rolls her eyes, but she's not serious, her point was clearly made and it _was _a pretty decent kiss - just behind their 'undercover' one, but she'll never admit that out loud - and puts her head back on his shoulder. It's nice in a weird way how her head fits exactly into his shoulder.

They're Castle and Beckett. They have bulletproof vests that say Cop and Writer. Magazines describe them as Author and Muse.

But right now they're Rick and Kate.

And that's good enough for them both right now.

Unbeknown to the both of them, Jim Beckett stands outside, not wanting to spoil the moment by bursting in. He smiles at the scene before him; he with his arm safely around her and she with her head on his shoulder, looking up at him and smiling her proper Kate smile. Realising this opportunity is just too perfect to miss, quietly snaps a picture of it on his phone. He smiles and looks upwards.

"We did good Jo. We did good."

He's about to leave and make apologies later when a cry goes up from Kate's room.

"CASTLE! WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR HAND IN THIS PICTURE?"

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><p><strong>And that, dear readers, concludes Polaroid, my first ever Castle fan fiction :D<strong>

**What did you think? Loved it? Hated it? Was reading it like watching chocolate rainbow unicorns leap for joy over oceans of money? Let me know!**

**I'd thank each and everyone of you that read this, alerted it, put it on their favourite list and especially those who reviewed personally but that's like over 1000 of you. So here is a huge collective hug *huggggggg* And lots of chocolate rainbow unicorns for you all too :P**

**Seeing that little story stat graph thing go up and up and up made my face go like this:  
>:| :] :) :D :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD<strong>

**I might possibly have a small one shot in the works that is a sort of sequel/epiloguey deal. Possibly.**

**Y'all just have to wait and see!**


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